Tall Tales
by KuriQuinn
Summary: In which Sasuke meets the one force he cannot counter: the curiosity of a tenacious toddler. [Part of the Legacy of Fire series]


**Summary:** In which Sasuke meets the one force he cannot counter: the curiosity of a tenacious toddler.

 **Disclaimer:** This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You will be smothered by a heavy blanket if you are found plagiarizing.

 **Warning:** _Spoiler_ s for pretty much everything up to _Naruto_ _Gaiden_.

 **Canon-Compliance:** Takes place during the _Blank Period_.

 **Fanon-Compliance:** Takes place several years before _An Inch of_ _Gold_ and _Unplanned._

 **AN:** Based off one of my tumblr prompts, this kind of fulfils my contribution to Sarada's birthday ^_^ I tried to keep Sarada's speaking ability age-appropriate, but keep in mind she's pretty precocious. I remember (and have been told) that I had a very advanced vocabulary and understanding of the world at around three years old, which I can see her having too. Full sentences and ten-dollar-words and all! Also, I abhor using baby talk for kids in a story if I don't have to. It's just a pet-peeve of mine!

* * *

"Papa! Story!"

Sasuke pauses in the act of extinguishing the light in his daughter's room, and glances back over his shoulder. His three-year-old daughter glowers expectantly at him from her bed, all three feet of her ramrod straight. One arm clutches an old and well-loved stuffed dinosaur, while the other is bent on her hip in a pose eerily reminiscent of her mother. The expression on her face is even more so, and although he finds the whole effect amusing, the toddler isn't the know that.

"Is that a reminder or a demand?" he asks her quietly. "Either way, there's a better way to say it."

Her nose wrinkles for a moment, but then she adopts a penitent look and amends, "Papa, you forgot the story. May you please tell me one?"

She speaks slowly and with careful diction, just as he has taught her.

 _Her vocabulary's getting better, even if her grasp of grammar is a little lacking._

Sakura is more lenient when it comes to their daughter's burgeoning conversational skills ("Sasuke, every child has a lisp at some point, she's not gearing up to address the Five Shinobi Nations or anything!"), but he is adamant any child of his is going to know how to speak properly.

He maintains that this has nothing to do with Naruto's son starting to talk a full month before Sarada.

Not that he really has to worry. It's already evident that his daughter is a precocious child, more so than her agemates excepting, perhaps, of Shikamaru's kid. Luckily, given her parentage, laziness will not be something Sarada is plagued by. Sasuke is restless and ambitious by nature, and Sakura a force to be reckoned with.

The latter is one of the reasons why his wife is still at the hospital right now, managing some emergency or other that he knows he would never have the patience to contend with. As such, Sasuke has been left to fend for himself and Sarada until she returns.

Not that this is a hardship.

Fatherhood suits Sasuke, more than he ever expected. Every day that he spends with Sarada is a day where he gets watch her discover something new, to see the world through eyes that are untarnished by pain or suffering. It's an innocence he can't remember ever having, and one he will drive himself to the ends of sanity to protect

He has never loved anyone in his life as much as he loves his daughter. It's a different emotion than what he feels for his wife, something primal and evolutionary, and which he can't even begin to articulate. It fills him every time he looks at Sarada, and almost manages to overwhelm the memories of hollowness and hatred.

"Papa?" His daughter has clearly exercised her patience waiting for his response, drawing him out of his musing and back to the present. "Mama always does stories."

As if he hasn't sat with the two of them every night and listened to those stories.

"Which one do you want?" he asks, moving back across the room. "'The Fisherman and the Maiden'? Or 'The Red Swordmaster'?"

She's been obsessed with that one for weeks.

"No."

"Then what?"

"A new story," she tells him matter-of-factly, jumping from standing to sitting and settling her dinosaur on her lap, as if he too intends to listen. "A Papa story, okay?"

"I don't know any stories," he states simply.

Sarada is not impressed with this answer and screws up her face, arms crossed. This particular look of hers is _not_ reminiscent of Sakura, and he can only surmise it comes from his genes. If that's the case, he might understand now why so many girls were drawn to him as a child, because even annoyed, Sarada looks adorable.

 _Not a word I ever thought I would use._

Nor is it something he ever expected would make him weaken his resolve.

"Let's see," he sighs.

He doesn't like to fail, especially in front of his own daughter, but he is no raconteur. Most stories he's heard are either utterly dull or not for children. The fables his mother told him when he was young have already been told from Sarada's infancy, and as for the ones he's lived himself…

Well, only one of those ended well, and it's far too long and too complicated a tale for a three-year-old girl.

 _Although…_

He supposes when it comes to the long and the complicated, it's never too early to lay foundations.

He sits down cross-legged on the bed. Sarada wastes no time worming her way into his lap and settling against him, pressing close to his chest, her ear against his heart. Sasuke automatically brings his arm around to secure her, even though she's in no danger.

"Long ago, long ago," he starts, the way Sakura always begins her stories, "there was a very wise man. He was cleverer than any other in the land. People came to him from far and wide to learn, for he was a respected teacher."

Sarada jerks upright, nearly dashing her head against Sasuke's chin to demand, "Like Uncle 'Kashi?"

Sasuke rolls his eyes.

Sarada's hero-worship of his former sensei irritates him somewhat. She has declared several times that she intends to marry him when she grows up, something the Sixth Hokage is wise enough to chuckle off while quickly making himself scarce.

"No. Much more dignified than Kakashi."

"Well…Well, like Grandfather?"

"Perhaps if he didn't crack so many poor jokes."

"No, not _Grandpa_ ," she insists. " _Grandfather._ Your papa."

Sasuke stills at this. He doesn't mention his family very often, but Sarada is at the age where she's beginning to recognise patterns and ask questions. Her maternal grandparents are a big part of her life, and she has come to understand their relation to her through Sakura. She also knows that Sasuke's parents are dead, but has yet to truly ask questions about them.

He supposes he should have expected this, but in truth, he isn't ready for it.

"What do you know about him?" Sasuke deflects, trying to determine just what he is in for tonight.

"Well, Uncle 'Kashi said he meeted him when he was small and he said he looked mad a lot and he said he didn't smile a lot and…and he said that's why you don't smile a lot, but I don't think it's true, Papa, 'cos you smile lots."

It would have to be Kakashi, of course. Neither Naruto or Sakura ever met his parents, so they wouldn't be a wealth of information when it comes to them.

"And what else did Kakashi tell you about your grandfather."

"I don't know. Uncle 'Kashi said he only talked to him sometimes. But if it was just sometimes, how come he said that?" she wonders, puzzling out the inconsistency like she didn't think about it until now. "Papa, was Grandfather mad a lot?"

"No," Sasuke responds quietly. "But he was responsible for many people, and sometimes that made it hard to approach him."

"Oh. Okay." She pauses to consider this, and then questions, "Why?"

"Sarada, do you want a story tonight or not?"

Because he is not in the frame of mind just yet to speak about his family, least of all his father, even in the safe, familiar space of his daughter's room.

"Yes, the story!"

"Very well," Sasuke continues. "Because the wise man was –"

"What's his name?"

"Sarada…"

"Papa! Mama _always_ says the names."

"Well, I wouldn't want to do it differently from your mother," he accedes solemnly, mouth twitching slightly at the absolute scandal that might cause. He pauses for a moment, trying to decide exactly what direction he wants to take this in, and eventually continues. "His name was Hagoromo."

"Hah! That's a funny name."

"So is Sarada."

"Papa!" she protests with a giggle. "Then why'd you call me it?"

"Because Boruto was taken."

"Nuh-uh! Mama said you named me after her and you and Uncle Itachi and _that's_ why you called me it."

"So we did."

"But how come?"

"So that no matter where you go in the world, you will always be connected to your family," he answers, which is both the simplest explanation and one she is old enough to understand.

"Oh. Okay. So did the Hugomomo man have a family too?"

"Ha-go-ro-mo."

" _Ha-go-ro-mo._ Did he have a family too?"

"No. His parents had died a long time before, and his brother had gone far away."

"Why?"

"Because he had a very important job to do."

"But then the Hagoromo was lonely."

"Perhaps at first. Not forever, though. As I said, he was a wise teacher, and after –"

"What'd he teach?"

Sasuke shoots his daughter a mildly irritated look at the constant interruptions peppering his tale, but when she gazes up at him in genuine curiosity he relents.

"He taught _ninshu_ , which is what people had before _ninjutsu_ existed. He was known all throughout the land, his students travelling from far and wide. They came from beyond the Land of the Ancestors to speak with him, and learn from his wisdom. It did not take long before he was surrounded by the most faithful of disciples."

"This story is kinda boring, Papa."

"I could always stop."

"No!"

Sasuke smirks and continues.

"Eventually Hagoromo married, and had two sons, before his wife died in childbirth."

"What's childbirth?"

"When a woman has a baby."

"Oh. But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did she die?"

"Because sometimes it's dangerous."

"When Mama childbirthed me, was it dangerous?"

"When your mother 'gave birth' to you, not 'childbirthed'."

"When she gave birth. Was Mama okay?"

Sasuke thinks back to that nerve-wracking experience, his eyes hardening, and says, "Yes. Your mother is strong."

"But the Hagoromo's wife wasn't?"

"She was. But sometimes that isn't enough."

"Well why didn't a medic-nin like Mama saved her?"

"There weren't any at the time. Even the healers they did have back then didn't know everything your mother knows."

"So her body stopped working," Sarada determines.

She has a vague understanding of death, slightly more comprehensive than the average toddler. Given the history of her family, Sasuke and Sakura chose very early on to answer her as honestly as possible. Which naturally led to a discussion about why she only had one set of grandparents or why she could never meet her uncle. Thankfully Sakura fielded those difficult questions, offering both a comforting and practical explanation that Sasuke doesn't think he would have been able to handle.

In many ways, his wife is much stronger than he is.

"Yes," Sasuke confirms. "Hagoromo's two sons –" Sarada shoots him an expectant look and he sighs, adding, "Indra and Asura,", which causes her to beam in approval before he continues, "were both healthy and strong. They watched out for one another as brothers should –"

"Like Uncle Itachi and you?"

"… Yes."

It's the shortest answer to a long and complicated story he may never tell her in its entirety.

"Papa, why don't I have a brother?"

"Ask your mother."

"Mama said ask you."

"Of course she did."

"So why don't I?"

"That's a question for another day."

"Well I think I should have a brother. Or a sister. Boruto just got Himawari. It's not fair."

"Life is often unfair."

Sarada pouts at this, crossing her arms across her chest. Sasuke chooses to continue the story in order to detract from a possible on-coming tantrum. Sarada isn't a particularly spoiled child, but she has her moments, and often over ridiculous matters. Sakura nearly burst a rib trying not to laugh that morning when Sarada had a complete meltdown over a ladybug landing on her nose.

"The two brothers grew up together, the best of friends even though they were very different. Indra was a prodigy who learned his father's teachings with ease, while Asura had more difficulty. He had a kind heart, however, and made up for his weaknesses with endless determination."

"Like Uncle Naruto!"

"…Yes. It was because of this determination to succeed, and because his heart was open to others, that Hagoromo decided that Asura should inherit his teachings one day," Sasuke tells her, carefully editing out the specifics of the story. "This made Indra angry, because he thought he should inherit the teachings."

"Why?"

"Because he was more powerful."

"No, why did the Hagoromo want only one of them to teach? Mama and Auntie Ino always say you have to share. He should have made them share."

Sasuke's mouth tugs upward here, amused that this tiny girl can see a logic that most adults can't. "Perhaps the old sage was not as wise as you."

Sarada beams at the compliment.

"In any case, Indra and Asura fought about it."

"Did Indra beat Asura?"

"No. He was defeated by his brother."

"But he was strong! Why'd he lose?"

"Because power is not the only quality a true warrior needs," Sasuke lectures her. "Through his determination to succeed in the face of failure, and to protect his loved ones, Asura became the strongest. Indra had never truly understood what it meant to care for someone, and want to protect them."

"So…he lost?"

"Yes."

"And…and then what happened? Did Asura kill him?" Sarada's voice trembles as she asks the question, the very idea seeming to perturb her.

"No. Indra was wounded in the battle, and used the last of his strength to bring himself far away from Asura and his father. He found himself lying on a shore in a distant land, weakened and unable to heal himself. It seemed, for a time, that he was meant to die."

Sarada's cat-like eyes become round. "Did he die, Papa?"

"No. He was found one day by a very young girl with a kind heart, who took pity on him."

"What was her name?" Sarada demands, barely waiting for him to finish the sentence.

Sasuke is simultaneously annoyed and amused by his daughter's detail-oriented nature. "Shachi."

"Was she pretty?"

Sasuke sighs again.

Of course, a three-year-old girl needs to know what the heroine of the story looks like. Both he and Sakura have tried since Sarada's birth to praise intelligence over physical beauty, but there's just something about aesthetics that appeals to young girls.

"I suppose so."

"What did she look like?"

"I don't know."

"Like Mama?"

"Sure," he allows, not concerned with whether that's true or not. He knows it's the only way she'll let him continue. Anyone else in the world and he would have gotten up and left already, but he wouldn't give up spending time with his daughter for anything. And it heartens him that she is so intent on establishing facts; the skill will serve her well when she gets older.

"Okay," she declares decisively, and makes a magnanimous gesture that he continue. He thinks she's been watching Kakashi too often. Honestly, the man didn't even want to be Hokage, but he plays the role well. Then, she suddenly, Sarada sits up straighter again. "Oh! Papa, were they going to fall in love? You said Indra never loved anyone, and then he was saveded by Shachi and maybe he liked her because she helped him and so he could learn to care and then he'd be able to go back home and be friends with Asura again!"

Her eyes shine with the triumph of someone who has just figured out the answer to a difficult question. Sasuke knows in the world of fairy tales, that's how the story would end. However, it's important that Sarada learn that the expected outcome is not always guaranteed.

"It is true that over time she grew to care deeply for Indra," Sasuke allows slowly, "and although he didn't admit it, he had feelings for her in return."

"Why didn't he say so?" Sarada demands, indignant.

"Although Indra was learning to care…he also continued to desire power. He worried that if anyone knew who he cared for, they might use it against him. He couldn't allow for that kind of weakness."

"That's silly."

"It is," Sasuke agrees, knowing that his hard-won lesson is something that Sarada has always inherently understood.

"Did they get married?"

"Yes, they did."

"Then they must have had babies and lived happily ever after," Sarada concludes. "Like you and Mama."

Life is so very simple at her age.

"…They were content for many years," Sasuke says after a pause, deciding that tonight is not the night to tell her how the story really ends. "They had children, and Indra's followers grew in number to spread his teachings. One day, those teachings would become _ninjutsu._ "

"Like what you and Mama can do!"

"Yes."

"Can I learn ninjutsu too?"

"One day, when you're older."

"I'll be older tomorrow, Papa," Sarada tells him earnestly. "Can I learn ninjutsu tomorrow?"

"It takes many years to learn ninjutsu," Sasuke says. "And only by people who are very well-rested – which means you have to go to sleep now."

"Okay!" she chirps. "And then you'll teach me?"

"If you want me to," he says, pulling back the sheets on her bed and allowing her to settle back in.

"I want you to!" she insists. "I need to be strong too so I can protect you and Mama and Uncle Kashi and Grandma and Grandpa and Auntie Ino and Inojin and Uncle Naruto and…and everyone!"

"Hm." He leans over to brush his lips against her forehead. "Sleep well."

He straightens up and prepares to leave, but then she cries, "Papa! You forgot!"

When he turns around, she is holding out the stuffed dinosaur, a plaintiff look on her face. He sighs – he still feels slightly ridiculous doing this, and thank the gods Naruto doesn't know about it – bends over and pretends to kiss the stuffed animal as well.

Satisfied, Sarada burrows back under her covers with the toy. "Good night, Papa, I love you."

"… I love you, too," he responds.

He adjusts her blankets one last time to ensure they're not covering her head – she has Sakura's tendency to turn herself into a giant cocoon – and shuts off the light.

On his way out of the bedroom, Sasuke passes the silent listener that has been lurking out in the hallway since about halfway through his tale.

"That's not the story I remember being told in school," Sakura says, a wry smile on her face.

"Well, they don't know the actual version, do they?" he counters matter-of-factly.

"Maybe we should have them change it."

"That might be a problem. Changing history usually requires sources. I doubt they'll accept "because I lived it" as justification."

Sakura chuckles again, and he follows her to the kitchen. "What happened to just telling her 'The Red Swordmaster' again?"

"She wanted a 'Papa Story'."

"You know that she meant _you_ -you. Not _past_ - _self_ -you."

"It still fits the parameters. If she wanted something different, she'll have to learn to be more specific," he replies lightly. "As it is, she didn't seem disappointed."

"You shouldn't be lawyering your own daughter."

"How else will she learn?"

Sakura rolls her eyes, reaching into the cupboard for the small flask of sake they keep there; some evenings she enjoys a nightcap, and rather than make her drink alone, Sasuke partakes as well. Only a sip or two, however; of his many strengths, tolerance to alcohol is not one of them.

They sit together in companionable silence for a few moments.

"… Why tell her that story?" Sakura asks quietly after a time. "She has so many books…"

"She was tired of them," he answers. "It's the shortest, least complicated story that I know."

"But…that one is so…" she hesitates, and then concludes, "sad."

"I suppose it depends on where you end it," Sasuke remarks, gazing down at her meaningfully. It takes her a beat to follow his logic, and then colour spreads delicately across her cheeks.

"You're getting better at that," she grumbles.

"At what?"

"Saying the right thing…"

"And that's bad?"

"No. It's dangerous," she tells him, still tellingly red in the face.

"How?"

But she waves him away, lifting her cup to her lips again.

"Sarada asked me something interesting earlier," Sasuke says casually, and then waits an extra beat, just long enough for Sakura to get a descent mouthful of her sake. "She was wondering why she doesn't have a brother or a sister. That's something we should work on, isn't it?"

The sake ends up on the floor, and judging by the gasping-splutter, completely down the wrong tube in Sakura's throat.

Sasuke smirks.

終わり

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Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated!

 **クリ**


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